The Place Where Reality Meets Pretend
by ZebedeeDaniels
Summary: Written for Camp Potter Astronomy Tower Paintball Challenge. Salazar Pollux Riddle - call me Pollux - is the son of the Dark Lord Voldemort but that didn't make life easier. Needing a place he could be himself, he fled to the tallest point in Hogwarts that he could think of: the Astronomy Tower. Drabble. LL/OMC


I used to sit up there, you know? Sit and watch the world go by in its usual lazy fashion, the only real problems being ones of the mind rather than body. I used to believe that people were just like stick figures, two dimensional with two dimensional personalities rather than the complex whirl that most people seem to relay it to be; it's funny how people over dramatise their lives to fulfil the constant craving they have for some such thing, be it attention, love or even hope. I am detached from it all, the whole mess of life that people seem to cling on to jealously with their spindly fingers smothering others in their greed, no, instead I find myself alone in my barren wasteland of love lost.

My father's dead you know. Killed. Most despised him, they believed him to be a _'heartless bastard who doesn't even deserve to rot in hell,'_ but I knew better. I knew my father better than anyone else knew him. He was always there for me, helping me craft my life exactly how I wanted it. The stupid Light side never knew what him them as I slowly corrupted them from the inside out. I would have liked to have said I found out about my Father's untimely demise up there as well but that would be an untruth; I usually never read my private letters anywhere else, people pry in the hope they'll find what they seek and, in my case, it's often my downfall but in this instance, I watched my Father fall at the hand of someone else. Someone whom I will hate for all eternity: Harry Potter.

He hated me all the time I knew him, to him I was just another 'Slimy Slytherin' but what would he know? What would the Gryffindor Golden Boy know about me? He could not know for he was a fool blinded by ambitions of heroism and bravery. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise: Harry Potter was a _Slytherin_ at heart. He was grown to be the perfect 'hero' but those green yet dark eyes of his held all the information I needed to know to realise that he was a crafty git who, at a subconscious level, manipulated all the weak willed people around him to follow him. Dumbledore's Army? Pff. May as well have called it the 'Potter Support League,' for that is what it was. He was taking a battering for saying my Father was alive from the wizarding world, so rather than fight in the political arena like a real man does, he fought in the shadows, stirring up supporters from the shadowy crevices that Hogwarts held. The lost ones, the ones whose parents died and left them alone, the ones who couldn't possibly get anywhere in life without having a silver spoon feeding them, they all found him likes moths to a flame. But Harry Potter was not just a flame, he was a fire. A fire of ice and rage.

I suppose it's all well and good telling you all this, you want to know how Potter is a manipulator and evil. I get that. But let me tell you a bit more about myself:

I am, first and foremost, the heir to the Noble and Most Venerable House of Slytherin and Riddle. I am also one of the most sly and sneaky people one could meet, be this due to my training or my nature you decide, and I am also one of the most powerful.

Power. It's a funny thing. When you think power I'm guessing you think big explosions and masses of light from large spells that drain the caster of all hope of winning a duel? In my case, power is not only that, but the ability to completely and utterly destroy a person, their political status and credibility, their mind and soul, and their physical being as well. Power is such a fickle thing that people no longer seem to pay attention to other forms of power, no it's all about spells and enchantments now but that's not the key essence of power. Knowledge is power. If you know how to annihilate your opponent, political or physical, then you hold power over him. Power is all relative. And relatively speaking, I can bring the four corners of hell crashing down on whoever I chose.

Another fun fact about my sadistic life is that I am an accomplished wandless caster. Great, isn't it? I can kill people and the ministry can't tell it was me, if I do it well enough they won't even realise the person's been murdered anyway.

_'LeStrange, you have yet again failed to meet my criterium. And so yet again you shall pay,' I whispered, my voice clear as crystal but still barely loud enough for her to hear, 'You knew the consequences of failure! You knew that if you did not come back with the blood of the girl on your filthy little blood traitor hands that you would be little more than a bloody wreck on the floor when I was finished with you! YOU HAVE FAILED FOR THE LAST TIME!' I shouted, my usually calm features contorted in rage as I took in the shaking bundle of rag and filth before me. Her hair was splayed around her head in oily rings, moving when she fell on the floor at my feet once more to kiss my silk robes, the fool believed herself to be superior to other followers but my and father and I both knew different: her arrogance made her weak._

_'Young Master, I-' she pleaded through her mess of hair._

_'Enough,' that was all I needed to say to stop her. Once more she was reduced to a quivering lump on the floor. How unbecoming._

_'Oh Pollux, you do know how to ruin my Death Eaters, don't you?' the high, but unusually warm, voice of my dad came from the doorway, his body silhouetted by the chink of light that came behind him. My dad is actually quite a loving person when you're his son, very protective and proud when pride is deserved; the Death Eaters could never see this side to him, they would run around like headless chickens in confusion of 'what had happened to their master?' Stupid fools._

_'I'm not ruining them, Father, simply wisening them up to the ways of the world,' I smirked as my father snorted (much to LeStrange's utter horror that her master could be anything but constantly evil)._

_'Well Pollux, have your fun but please return her in functioning pieces-' and with that he left, leaving her alone with me._

_'Itty Bitty LeStrange: the weak link in my plan. And you know what happens to weak links? They get put under pressure until they break,' I laughed with an evil smile I don't think even my father could pull off, 'CRUCIO!'_

_Screams._

As you can see, not all my plans work - much to my annoyance- but the power I hold over the 'weak links' is such that it doesn't matter because I can make them do it again and again until it's done or they get caught. Even if they get caught it's not a problem because a) everyone suspects my dad and b) they wouldn't squeal on me anyway, I hold too much power over them and they know this. They know that I would break into Azkaban just to mentally torture them, but that's another story.

Going back to astronomy tower - the place I used to sit - I suppose the reason that I used to sit there was, quite simply, to get away from it all. I wanted a place where I could just be little Pollux Riddle, the kid who had friends and everything was simple. I know I said earlier that I was detached from it all, and in most cases I am, but that's what makes me anxious: that I am detached and I haven't got that many friends because they all tried to suck up because I'm the son on the Dark Lord and who wouldn't want to be my friend? Note: heavy sarcasm. I've had to be detached but I sometimes wish that I wasn't. Sometimes I pretend that I have all the friends that I want who like me for me, not Malfoy who sucks up because he wants the status that being my friend would bring, the power; not Zabini, for the same reasons and that I'm scared that his mother may try and marry me and then kill me off in the night... I mean- er...

And don't even get me started on Parkinson. _What a stuck up bitch_. Seriously, she keeps on grappling at me in the hope that I'll mysteriously fall for her and we'll ride off into the sunset on horse back or something equally cheesy and then, when I peel her off me, she acts as if I've slapped her- okay, mentally I have many times but never physi- ah, nope, I have slapped her, I lie.

The one person I know who treats me like a real person with real person feeling is Luna Lovegood who doesn't seem to even care that I'm going to be a Dark Lord, if anything she loves the idea... Along with Crumpley Horny Snorkacks? or something so I'm not entirely sure if I should be pleased or slightly insulted. I'll happily got with the former.

So, all in all while the war was taking place and everyone was going mad at each other, I had a place where I could sit and think and pretend to myself that I am normal. The astronomy tower was my rock.

Well, it was until Dumbledore died there.

_But that's a different story._


End file.
